


Dragon Crisis

by JulieYBM



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Elseworlds, Dragon Ball, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, No Lesbians Die, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieYBM/pseuds/JulieYBM
Summary: After Vegeta has been arrested for the death of the villain Atomic Skull it's up to Son Gokuu to battle Superman for his freedom! Superman demands that justice and the law be followed but what's really eating at him and making him such a sour-puss? [I would really appreciate any comments, I'm curious if any of the details are unclear and am happy to answer any questions!]
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane





	Dragon Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> “Dragon Crisis” is a silly little fan fiction crossover between Dragon Ball and DC Comics that I have been working on on-and-off since...I was a teen girl? I honestly don't remember. Beginning in 2016 I began working on the latest incarnation of this project and re-worked the plot, eventually paring down the story into what I planned as a six chapter story, each chapter being structured like a half-hour episode of Dragon Ball. In other words, I have structured the story as a 120 minute movie. 
> 
> As I am often wont to do, I decided that while I had structured the story as I pleased my health really only allowed me to write the second half of the story. As a result, I set about writing 'Episodes' #4-6, which would cover the main battle that the story was centered on: Son Gokuu versus—you guessed it—Superman.
> 
> Dragon Crisis was a work I initially began working on out of frustration with how absolutely bored I was with crossovers between franchises. This sentiment was crystallized when Toriko x One Piece x Dragon Ball aired in 2013: all of the characters got along and the element that is most unique about Son Gokuu—putting fighting strong foes before all else—was not explored in contrast to the more friendship-centered Toriko and One Piece. 
> 
> Equally frustrating for me as a fan of combat series and crossovers is that a decisive winner could never be reached. In the aforementioned crossover Son Gokuu, Toriko and Luffy reach a draw in their battle. A draw is not necessarily a bad thing but in a story a conflict’s conclusion must mean something and set the characters down a new path toward self-improvement. I feel as if a decisive win makes taking a step forward easier to convey, furthermore it adds a sense of satisfaction. I realized that in this crossover a draw was relied upon for one reason: capitalism. Pinning series against one another and showing decisive superiority is thought by the capitalist corporations to be bad for sales. As a result, I realized that the real satisfaction could be found only in the realm of the unofficial parody. The fan creator does not answer to capitalists nor do I answer to other fans. In this realm I am free to realize my story unperturbed and to the best of my—admittedly limited—ability.
> 
> As a result of these conclusions, I wanted to form a story that answered that call I felt highlighted the contrasts of the traditionally banal ‘superhero’ from the west with the ‘hero’ Son Gokuu, who is not a ‘superhero’. How does one accomplish this? You put him into conflict with the pillar of banal American traditionalism and ‘American exceptionalism’: Superman.
> 
> As a young girl growing up in the 1990s and 2000s I grew up on several depictions of Superman in media but they always seemed to be wet blankets and just plain un-fun as characters compared to the more pride-driven protagonists in Japanese comics and cartoons. I decided that to maximize the sense of conflict I was going to have to essentially take these elements and turn them up to ‘eleven’.
> 
> Superman in modern contexts has moved away from being a social and economic justice warrior to being a generic, inoffensive—most especially towards conservative and centrist/neoliberal Americans—face of capitalism. Growing up on the oppressive tyranny of the conservative American family structure as a deeply closeted queer transgender woman, I struggled in adulthood to adopt my own sense of politics. As I took up this project first as a critique of mainstream American superheroes from the perspective of a child of the ‘anime boom’ I soon began to realize that the depiction of Superman I was crafting was also a victim of toxic masculinity and American social norms. As I slowly came to terms with being transgender and queer I continued to refine this depiction of the character. Whereas I once set out to craft the ‘complete opposite’ of my ideal Superman I found myself now pouring my hopes for freedom into him. Resultantly, I’m actually pretty proud of the character develop I crafted off of the top of my head.
> 
> Your Cheeky Little Sister,  
> JulieYBM (She/Her), ACAB

Dragon Crisis (2016)  
Episode #04: “The Beast That Shouted 『 FIGHT』 at the Heart of the World”  
Written by JulieYBM

Satellite cameras zoomed across the atmosphere of Planet Nele all the while capturing images and safe flight patterns. Billionaire and allegedly reformed criminal Lex Luthor had spared no expense in the creation of the cameras—each adorned with his corporate logo—meant to capture and broadcast back to Earth—and elsewhere—the battle about to unfold on the far away world. When only five days prior it had been leaked that there would be a battle between his arch nemeses—Superman—and one of the mysterious visitors from another universe—Son Gokuu—Luthor knew he would have to be at the forefront of the monetization of such an event. Superman finding himself begrudgingly coaxed into combat for sport was nothing new but had always been spur of the moment. This battle, though, was ceremoniously scheduled—if hastily—and looked to be marketed as a sporting event for a corrupt capitalistic system. Luthor had shrewdly procured an uninhabited planet so that none would be hurt by the battle. “No blood, no problem,” the genius billionaire had arrogantly proposed at his press conference earlier in the week. Investors and sponsors flocked to the feed like fowl that knew no foul. Clearly this meant the foe Superman was to face would be formidable and a formidable foe for Earth’s favorite adopted son meant money in the bank for its least favorite son. Luthor, personally manning the maintenance crew of the dozens of satellite cameras now roaming the planet, grinned as he overlooked the world from the atmosphere.

As devoid of sentient life as Planet Nele was, the planet was fittingly abundant with vegetation. Flourishing jungles, forests and other ecological norms dressed the planet in a brilliant green and blue. There were deserts, there were oceans, there were mountains and there were auspicious archipelagos. Doubtlessly, there were lands where it never stopped raining, lands where it never stopped snowing and lands where the fires childishly refused to settle.

As the sun welcomed a new day a decidedly groggy lizard none too different from an Earth lizard awoke in what later became known as Clash Desert. At first perplexed by the arrival of a new space ship, the lizard seemed to recall once before seeing many crafts similar depart the world. Or was that just his imagination? Then again, he was a lizard and was not particularly inclined to give a damn. Excreting a week’s worth of fecal matter, the lizard dug back into the desert earth, blasé. 

From the craft exited two figures, one remaining decidedly distant in approximation from the other. Adorning a cape no less red than that of a king The Man of Steel appeared like a god to the viewers at home on Earth. Everything was perfect about Superman, from his spotless uniform to his gelled-back hair to his physique. Only the scowl adorning his face spoke of imperfection. The men and women of Earth in their infinite lack of self-awareness praised him as a deity and to that effect perhaps he subconsciously believed himself to hold the responsibilities of one? 

Following from the rear, a man clad in a red martial arts dougi followed. With much glee the mysterious visitor from another universe, this Son Gokuu character, thought aloud to himself “There ain’t any people, but there sure is a ton of life! Aw, well, whatever. Now I can go all-out without anyone compainin’ ‘bout anyone getting’ hurt!” Taking into the air through his ki-based flight technique, Son Gokuu took sight of the nearest change in topography, a sweltering jungle just to the north. “Ossu, Clark, do you think there’s anything tasty to eat in that jungle?!”

Superman didn’t even look at his irritation. There was still a half hour before the ‘match’ was ‘scheduled’ to begin. If he had to spend another five minutes listening to the inane blabbering of that dolt he really might have to forego the official match and begin beating the ‘Saiyan’ to a pulp then and there. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to this nonsense. If only he could have insured a way to force the other Saiyan, Vegeta, to forced to pay for his crimes. Superman suspected the ‘compromise’ of a trial-by-combat suggested by the visitor was merely little more than an excuse for him to get his thrills fighting someone. How was it possible beings of such power and capriciousness to exist? 

With a snap of his blue wrist guards, Son Gokuu began to stretch. The immediate dunes seemed to grow heavy with tension. Were the distortions of the air simply due to the sweltering heat of the abscond? 

The Justice League Watchtower orbiting Planet Earth was crowded with Leaguers that day. The world seemed to have come to a stop. Not a single crime had been committed that day. It was if the world itself had united simply to view the first metahuman Olympics. Had Superman continued to be appraised of the death of activity on Earth he would have blanched. That the world could be united in peace merely through combat sport with a murderer’s freedom on the line was too venomous.

The main view screen and several of the smaller view screens were tapped into the feed being broadcast from Planet Nele. Leaguer’s grievances over the advertisements scrolling across the bottom of the screen were mere outlets for their anticipation and unease.

The Batman leaned back against a control panel as he viewed the mood of the scene. Guy Gardner and those around him spoke loudly about how Superman was sure to clean the clock of the Saiyan. Another group, spearheaded by Big Barda, commented that if the ease with which the captured Saiyan had dispatched Atomic Skull and the other villains were any indication then the match could become very interesting very fast. Batman redirected his attention to the Saiyan who had started it all, Vegeta, smugly sitting full-rear atop a control console, hands cuffed, but otherwise unperturbed. Having paid close attention to his body language and words since his capture, The Dark Knight was beginning to suspect the shackles, strong enough to shackle some of the Justice League’s most dangerous foes, were merely a pretense. 

***

Monitors across the universe washed dark rooms in lights that changed as if in dance. Whether in Gotham, Metropolis, Central City or even clear and blue skies of New Genesis, these colors were bathed in by mortal and god. 

Leonard Snart—his trademark blue goggles comfortably covering his eyes—showed no sign of emotion as the news coverage pundits discussed the financial benefits of the world’s most renowned hero taking part in a ‘sport’. The icy cold dining room table began to warm as the captain tossed his legs on top and fiddled with his phone. A text message from Captain Boomerang expressing dismay at the events unfolding before them gave Cold pause: Boomerang and some of the other Rogues were going all-in on a joint betting pool with the rogues from Gotham. “$630 million on the Man of Steel? Pfft.” Cold tossed his phone onto the table and returned his attention to the news. ‘There’s too many unknowns about this ‘Son Gokuu’ fellow to just up and bet the Big Blue Boy Scout,’ Snart ruminated, “Bad form, George.’ 

***

The sound of the buzzer silenced the universe. Carried on the back of the wind, sand danced around the two competitors. The Man of Steel stared down his foe, refusing to lose sight of him. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that he had truly never ‘thrown the first punch’ before and the lack of experience, he found, was maddening. Clark Kent tried to make a fist, but all he could do was stand there, formless, waiting.

The anticipation left Son Gokuu positively keyed up. The Saiyan was confident the sweat shooting like a star across his brow was due not to the beating sun above or the killer climate surrounding but rather the anticipation of facing a foe he could absolutely not read. “Guys from this universe ain’t got no ki for me to sense, but this Clark guy in par-tic-you-lar is real hard to read. It’s like he ain’t got any fightin’ spirit. Ge-ge!”

Seconds past, but neither competitor moved. ‘Strongest guy on Earth, strongest guy on Earth…’ Guy Gardner’s words ran through Son Gokuu’s mind like a mantra, the drum beats of a great war. Finally, it was too much. “To hell with it!”

Slicing through the sweltering heat of the desert like no punch before it, the fist of Son Gokuu connected cleanly with the tip of Superman’s nose. As if a gale force itself had slammed into him, Clark Kent was sent flying back through the desert, his noggin acquainting itself with prickly cacti and his orifices-of-the-person with sand.

“W-what happened?” One moment The Man of Steel was swearing to never take his eyes off the irritating Saiyan, the next he was firmly planted in a hill of sand. Reminding himself to do so, Superman dug his way out of the sand and stumbled to his feet in a daze, his cape nearly tripped him as the wind wrapped it around his leg. Shaking his head to free it both of sand and its grogginess, Clark used his superhuman sight to reclaim sight of ‘that Gokuu character’. Much to his chagrin, the Saiyan was closing the distance on their 360 foot gap with a slow, tension-filled walk. “This really is just a game to him.” The fists of Clark Kent were clenched at last.

***

Reactions to the first blow of the battle flared up across the universe like dancing lights wrapped around a Christmas tree. Almost nobody had seen the Saiyan move and the advanced Lex Corp camera system was still, according to the scrolling text running across the bottom of the screen, ‘adjusting’ to the movements of the fighters. “This is essentially the warm-up,” explained The Batman to those Leaguers surrounding him, their bodies equally drenched in sweat. Placing his coffee mug safely on a patented coffee-proof control console, The Batman continued: “once the super computer running those cameras has collected enough data it should be possible for the battle to visible through the broadcast.” The Watchtower lit up with another uproar of discussion amongst its dozens of heroes and crewmen only to be quieted by its glorified prisoner redirecting their attention to the screens. “Hush now!” Vegeta yelled, not in frustration but almost is if a proclamation. As if following his own advice, Vegeta added in whisper: “Something is about to happen.” 

***

Off-kilter and still reeling from the initial blow, Superman nevertheless lunged through the air at Son Gokuu and did his best, unrefined as he was, to slam a right hook into the red dougi-clad Saiyan’s face. Much to the shock of the universe, the Saiyan accepted with no problem. Despite preparing himself with a legs spread wide and a slight forward hunch, Son Gokuu skidded backward; kicking up sand like a manual lawn mower would grass.

Thoughts spilled from Gokuu’s mouth with no regard for appearances. “Yeeouch! That stung! Clark ain’t a martial artist but his unrefined blows have naturally destructive force behind ‘em. They’re dirty and they stick!” Rubbing the left side of his jaw, Gokuu broke from his now weakened stance and stood upright. “Y’ain’t bad! This should be lotsa funs, Superman!”

“Thank God that dolt remembered to use my hero name and not my real name,” Clark grumbled to himself as he fiddled with his uniform to straighten the wrinkles. The burn of having his identity exposed on top of having his punch taken willingly would’ve been humiliating. “You’re testing my strength, aren’t you?” 

Son Gokuu replied with naught but a giggling grin.

The Man of Steel fired off another slug…but this one did not connect. Son Gokuu, poker-faced, merely turned to the side, eyes kept on the fist as is it retracted back to its owner. This continued a handful of times until the Earth-raised Saiyan finally reached behind The Man of Tomorrow’s left shoulder and pushed him forward as he stepped aside and behind him. Casually watching his foe stumble forward, Gokuu scratched his head, confused. 

‘I can’t hit him,’ Clark realized. Launch after launch of hooks both horizontal and vertical and not a one could connect on his curious foe. Was it speed? Turning to face Gokuu once more, Superman unleashed a punch with more speed, only to be rebutted.

Gokuu caught the second hook with the back of his right wrist and pushed it off course. With a left counter to Superman’s abdomen Gokuu dropped his foe to his knees.

The look on Clark’s face was doubtlessly a look of shock. ‘How?!’ The sensation of his heart beating on his chest, of antacid gathering in his throat, horrified Clark. Never before had a fear been planted into The Man of Steel that made his body react in such a physical—nay, physiological manner. Being faced with a logic he could neither accept nor refute, a crack appeared on Clark Kent’s soul.

With a back flip kick, Son Gokuu sent his blustering big blue foe flying through the desert into the jungle to the south. Foliage and trees were torn to shreds as Mister Kent tore through the jungle, slowly but surely finally crashing into the lake square in the middle of the jungle. Bubbles rose to the surface of the lake.

Son Gokuu hovered in the sky above the lake, the ripples adoring its surface finally dissipating. “Hope he can swim,” the student of the Kame-sen’nin thought aloud. Alas, it was destined to be but a brief interlude. A brilliant red beam of heat seared through the surface of the lake. The sky seemed almost to catch fire as clear blue reddened with rage. A towering blast of the heat vision of Superman engulfed Son-san. In almost an instant the lake had turned into a massive crater disguised by a shield of steam massive more.

The tower of heat waved over Son Gokuu’s person like hot grease over an ant. ‘This,’ he thought ‘This is what I’ve been looking for!’ With a shout, Gokuu raised his ki output and broke free of the blast. The tower dissipated soon after and Gokuu relaxed his ki, the white-colored aura briefly covering his form quietly fading, his jet black hair calming its dance amidst the winds. With Superman covered by the mountainous steam cloud and having no ki for Gokuu to sense the forty-six year old set about thinking of a plan to smoke his prey out of hiding. Unfortunately for him, his brainstorming was quickly interrupted by a flurry of short, ever increasingly pinpoint blasts of heat vision. Whereas the initial blast was a blustering and thick spread of heat these were becoming shorter, faster, thinner and harder to avoid. Gokuu danced through the air, doing his best to stay ahead of the blasts, but as their numbers increased so did the number of ways Gokuu had to divide his attention. The Saiyan soon found both his red dougi taking on burn marks. A blast even momentarily singed the tip of one of his bangs! “If I’m goin’ to hit back I gotta see him first!” Raising his ki once again, Son Gokuu’s body exploded into a fiery white aura that adorned his body. The pressure made even his black hair dance in the wind. Two beady red beams of heat stabbed into the Saiyan’s left shoulder but the ensuing bee-sting was promptly ignored. 

***

The Watchtower roared with cheers as their representative appeared to be taking the flow of the battle back by force. Things had started to look bad for a moment there but now that Superman had that Saiyan dancing to his tune they were sure things would start turning to their advantage. 

Ray Palmer furiously analyzed the data being recorded by the League’s own satellites deployed around the planet. That burst of energy and the weird light that had surrounded Son Gokuu worried him. For a brief moment the alien martial artist had somehow put out a burst of that same ‘ki’ particle that had killed Atomic Skull. It was difficult trying to understand the power itself without understanding how the Saiyans’ bodies generated it. The young inventor’s thought process was interrupted by sudden new readings. Son Gokuu was once again adorned in a wildly moving aura. The crowd, as if in synch, hushed at the ominous sign.

“That means he’s bringing his power to the surface,” Vegeta announced with an amused look.

Palmer instantly set about working that hint into his hypothesis. The energy readings were rising rapidly, “…surely this can’t be controlled?!” Palmer turned to Vegeta for further answers. 

The Prince of Saiyans considered letting the League suffer in suspense a little longer but the loud vocal cries for an explanation were getting a little annoying. “It is. This isn’t even half of Kakarotto’s power.”

“N-not…even half?” Palmer and the others repeated with despair. Readings like this suggested “but…but with readings like this he could—” 

“—destroy a dozen worlds without breaking a sweat,” Vegeta finished, gesturing an explosion with his still shackled hands. 

*** 

It was time for a counterattack. With speed that sent the satellite cameras through a loop once more, Son Gokuu repositioned himself to the ground outside of the steam cloud formerly known as Jungle Lake and clapped his hands together. Generating a massive shockwave, the Saiyan-raised-on-Earth blew away the cloud almost instantaneous. 

Now adorning a torn and roughed up super suit, Superman felt more so naked by the loss of his steam smoke screen than his now fashionably battled damaged costume. It was his one cover from which to hopefully end this charade and see justice dealt but now his façade of dominance was unveiled. Could he keep the battle going in his favor now that he had lost his advantage? 

Son Gokuu declined to stand around doing nothing. Dashing forward, Gokuu launched a flying kick at Superman.

‘Speed,’ The Man of Tomorrow remembered. ‘Combine your powers; it’s the only way to stand a chance!’ Superman refused to take his eyes off of his foe, every movement through the air, inch-by-inch, caught by his eyes like a slow-motion recording. Finally, The Man of Steel caught his prey.

His leg had been caught, mid-kick, and was now being crushed by both Clark’s arms and between his body. Gokuu spun as best he could to connect his free left leg with Superman’s temple but was met with an arm block smashing into his leg. His foe was quick to grab his remaining leg, leaving Son Gokuu without a leg to stand on. Before he could counter with his fists the Saiyan found himself being spun around at high-speeds. 

As if spinning an electric saw blade, Superman spun and spun, tearing through the terrain with his Saiyan foe as his blade. The jungle terrain kicked up into the air, whether soil, stone or foliage.

***

A saber tooth tiger cracked open an eye to view the spectacle that had awoken him from his slumber atop the jungle’s sturdiest tree. Those two humanoids were making quite the racket and had now disturbed a catnap on his favorite perch. With his orange ears twitching in annoyance the saber tooth allowed his eye to shut and attempted to return to business. Suddenly, the Great Tree shuddered. Opening both eyes to ascertain the source of the shaking the saber tooth was further annoyed to find that the one clad in blue had slammed the one clad in red into the tree. One hundred eight million years and the Great Tree had never once taken a scratch. Now an adult humanoid-sized indentation adorned its base. This needed to stop; now.

Dizziness plagued Son Gokuu as he did his best to take his one chance to free himself of Clark Kent’s grasp and peel himself from the alcove his body had painstakingly created in the Great Tree of the Southern Jungle. “Owchie, shit! I’ve got a splinter in my nose!” The somewhat high-pitched voice of the Saiyan somehow reached higher as he grasped his face with both hands. After a moment’s beat Gokuu realized he should have used his hands to blast Superman with ki.

Hands still firmly grasping Gokuu, The Man of Steel finished peeling Gokuu out of the indentation his person had made in the Great Tree and introduced it to the nearest boulder. The slam shattered the boulder into a frankly uncountable number of pieces the creepy crawlers calling it home chose not to bother counting. Superman leapt atop Gokuu’s body to keep it pinned down as he began slamming punch after punch into the facedown Saiyan’s spine. Any critical damage he did could probably be undone by League technology. All that mattered now was winning the fight and ensuring that Gokuu’s callous friend didn’t escape the good twenty-to-life in prison he deserved. Too bad that those saber tooth fangs tore him off and tossed him aside.

“Goddamn it!” the saber tooth roared, exasperation worn upon his sleeve. “Can’t you brats take your pissing contest elsewhere?”

Clark Kent had never faced a talking saber tooth tiger before. Then again, he had never willingly agreed to a formally scheduled battle before. It was a weird week. “D-did this saber tooth tiger just speak?”

Gokuu hazily lifted himself out of the crater his body had formed. Taking sight of their party crasher the man turned to Clark and asked “Yeah, so? Happens all the time where I’m from.” 

Clark Kent had no words. 

The Batman considered the existence of a sentient, talking saber tooth tiger silly for but a moment before memories of Starro, the sentient starfish, slapped that thought down. Taking a sip of coffee, The Dark Knight nodded, as if in agreement. Several of his colleagues raised an eyebrow. 

The wind caught the ripped, torn, grated, shredded and singed dougi Son Gokuu wore. Whis-san, attendant to the Destruction God known as Beers, had created the red dougi for the forty-six year old Saiyan when he began training under him only a few months prior. Amazingly enough, the small symbol Whis-san had drawn on the front left of his robe top had escaped the battle insofar unscathed. Every other inch of the dougi had seemed marred in some way, but not that symbol.

Locating a nice, rocky and deserted area, Gokuu pointed to The Man of Tomorrow that they had found their new arena today. Superman nodded in agreement, finding that with the pillars and boulders as large as they were he would be able to use them to his advantage. The odd couple landed, each atop a different pillar-esque rock formation. Gokuu went to tighten the blue dougi belt that held together his robe top only to find one of ends shorter than the other. The battle had been so intense he hadn’t noticed that his belt was not half the cloth it was before! The remaining end was already showing signs of fraying. 

Clark landed atop his own pillar-esque rock formation and surveyed the landscape before him. Since his foe would have difficulty searching him out without that ‘sixth sense’ of his working on those from this universe he definitely had an advantage he could make use of. Still, this practically perpetual valley of rock formations and pillars did have him wonder just what had once happened on this world. Intelligent life must have existed on it at one time or the other, surely. ‘Don’t get caught up in it,’ Kent reminded himself, ‘Focus on the fight, win it, then go home. ‘Justice’ isn’t some game, damn it!’ Superman unleashed a spray of heat vision to slice the pillar his foe stood on as he tightened his belt. 

With his footing taken from him by surprise, Gokuu collapsed onto his back from his fifteen foot tower. “Yeesh!” the Saiyan grumbled as he regained his foot, “My ass hurts!” Much to his chagrin when the Saiyan sat back up he realized his adversary had taken to the wind. Now, in the thick of a valley of boulders, pillars and formations, Son Gokuu cursed the reminder that he was battling a foe with no ki. Using his eyesight would take too long, too. 

‘Just buy a little more time,’ the Kryptonian reminded himself. ‘Three—no, two more minutes and my injuries should heal.’ That initial punch to the face had broken his nose and muffled his breathing and the knees to the abdomen had not helped. With the solar rays of the sun still beating down on him it was only a matter of time before his cells repaired his body at an accelerated rate. With his stamina practically limitless so long as he played his cards right it was only a matter of time before Son Gokuu reached his limit. ‘Surely that Saiyan is already experiencing internal bleeding from earlier blows!’

It would a bit of a headache, but waiting for his foe to make a move voluntarily was getting to be annoying. Son Gokuu raised his ki—already on edge by pure combat instinct—and placed a hand to the ground. Spreading ki through the surface of the world, Gokuu covered as much of the valley as he could. Causing the ground to explode with his ki would be the best way to smoke Superman out of hiding. Too bad Superman, having drilled through the ground, grabbed his arm and pulled him underground.

‘Let’s both lose our breath!’

Soil, soil, stones, more soil, and insects filled the lungs of Son Gokuu. The unexpected dive into the ground had—expectedly—surprised him and kept him from shutting his mouth in time. Now he found himself combating a lack of oxygen and unwanted company within his person. Unleashing a quick, improperly focused kiai, Gokuu blew away a sizable section of the planet, even forcing his foe to break his one-handed grasp on his wrist. Still, he was still quite exposed. The humongous dust cloud he had created would do him no good, either in locating Superman or in catching his breath. ‘Ain’t got time to be fillin’ my lungs with more dirt!’ Gokuu thought to himself while he desperately tried to cough up what he had already swallowed. ‘Gotta get above the cloud so I can get some fresh air and find water!’ Before the Saiyan could even make break for it he found himself pulled once again down toward the planet’s surface, this time by both ankles. “Damn!” Patience running thin, Gokuu pulled himself down and slammed a fist into what he hoped was his figureless, unseen foe’s face. Whatever he hit seemed to suffice as he quickly found his ankles freed. Cupping his hands to his side, Son Gokuu channeled an immense amount of ki into his palms. A spark of a blue light appeared.

***

The satellite cameras were true to their maker. Even the massive cloud coverage obscuring the fight was not enough to stop the cameras from capturing the nitty-gritty of the now grit-covered combatants. The watchers of the Watchtower were on the edge of their seats and feet as the battle seemingly grew dirtier and dirtier by the second. Nobody could tell who was winning and every time Superman seemed forced to take action those who knew him best feared for him most. “If he could just get some time to himself,” Palmer thought aloud “he could rejuvenate his cells with the sun’s energy.”

Vegeta, still atop his perch, laughed. “Not going to happen, Kakarotto enjoys battle far too much to take a break.”

The Batman, listening in on the conversation, returned his gaze to the monitor. “Clark’s best shot is to take the fight to the nearby sun. If he can escape the atmosphere then this Son Gokuu fellow shouldn’t be able to follow. “

A smirk graced Vegeta’s face. “Really now?”

“Hey, something’s happening!” Guy Gardner shouted, returning everyone’s attention to the battle. A blue light illuminated the dust cloud as a stream of energy punctured the cloud and slammed into a momentarily stunned Superman, hunched over and rubbing his jaw atop a stone pillar.

***

It came almost without warning. A brief chant of some nonsensical phrase the translator piece in his ear couldn’t decipher heralded a terrifying ‘light’. A stream of those blue energy particles rained down on The Man of Steel, not simply colliding into him, but engulfing him and sending him flying through the surface of the planet. Deeper and deeper he flew, like an ant carried by the mightiest fire engine hose. Clark reached out with his right hand, desperately trying to close the gap between himself and the one who dared make a mockery of the justice system. The Saiyan’s words replayed through his mind: “Eh, why don’t we just fight for Vegeta’s freedom? Lemme fight yer strongest guy and if I lose I won’t just use my Shunkan-idou to teleport him back to our universe!” ‘Forced,’ the Earth-raised Kryptonian thought to himself ‘…h-had no other choice!’

Another crack appeared upon the soul of the beloved Superman. Tears escaped his eyes—only to be incinerated by the stream of ki tearing him through the planet—as Superman accepted that he was helpless.

Episode #05: “FLY ME TO THE MOON”

Fires ran across the city. They streaked across streets, shot across buildings, and spewed from faucets. The fires danced, smothering horrified citizens as they draped over them like erotic dancers. Cyborg flying monkeys, once average citizens of far-off worlds themselves, rained fiery hell down on those below them. These ‘Parademons’, a frightening shade of green, filled the skies over Metropolis. Cries of war escaped their jagged, unkempt jaws like roars as they slaughtered countless citizens, police and soldiers. Were the clouds dark from the smoke or were they simply blackened by the sorrows of those lost to invasion?

No stars were visible that night. When the night had begun none could recall. The orange, the red and the black colored the world of Metropolis. It was as if a new time of day had supplanted the others, replacing the dark and the light with only the fire. 

No stars were visible that night. The blackened and orange sky was littered only with the harsh green of the Parademons and their general. A black and red armor shielded his body, not from bullets or mortars, but from the ability of the human mind to humanize their foe and make them somehow vulnerable. The General, adorning a full-head helmet with horns spouting from atop, commanded with mere hand gestures. “Burn the schools and libraries. Make sure not to neglect the harbors!” They were words spoken, yet no words were spoken.

Concentrated fire poured over Metropolis Elementary School. School pets scorched, faculty fried and children died. There was no hiding, there was no refuge. This was not war, this was conquest. 

The screams of a young girl filled the air. Smoke and dust filled her lungs in return as her legs laid helplessly beneath rubble. The Mother screamed for help only for her voice to be washed out by rumbling mortars. A shadow passed over The Mother, stealing her attention. “Please, help my daughter!!!” her cracked lips cried, “Oh God, the screams!” Appeasing the appeal, The General landed upon the skull of the child, crushing it. Blood splattered and shot every which way, coloring the soot-stained face of The Mother, filling the sidewalk, and gracing even The General’s war helmet. The General planted his flag pole into the sidewalk, inspiring a sound both quick and clean. Sewn cleanly into one side of the flag was the emblem of Darkseid. The General doffed his helmet, revealing—

—cut to black. 

***

‘Again…that nightmare.’ 

Coolness and wetness penetrated Superman, both back and fore. The Man of Steel awoke suddenly, finding himself floating atop an ocean face-up. Rain pounded on his face but the swishing of the ocean drowned out its sound. There was only the swishing. 

Clark struggled to feel his own fingers, let alone move; the dark clouds above frightened him, foreboding and encapsulating. If his throat had not been so dry the Earth-raised Kryptonian would have cursed as he summoned up every fiber of his being to levitate out of the water. Only inches above the water, Superman fell back into the grasp of the torrential ocean below. Lying there, once again only his face above water, Clark Kent looked side-to-side. There was nothing but water as far as his bleary eyes could see.

Mister Kent still couldn’t feel his fingers. Sticking his hands in cold water and snow had never numbed him before. Clark struggled to raise his right hand above the water to look at it. ‘Sleeve’s gone,’ he noticed first. Then he noticed the real problem. His freakishly large palm, which he had used desperately to try and push back the tower of light, was charred. Skin and flesh, he found, had begun to slip right off bone. The reaction was delayed but it didn’t take Kryptonian super-vision to see the face of The Man of Steel change from distant to shear horror, like a thousand photos taken by the millisecond. 

A shriek quieted the sashaying oceans. 

Every fiber of Clark Kent’s being screamed, hotter than red, redder than hot, as he tore through the skies. Superman braved the ominous, foreboding black clouds that dared to blanket him. It was like trying to punch through molasses. A bolt of lightning slammed into his neck from which direction he knew not.

Within his mind Clark saw the face of a woman—somehow familiar—smiling, brushing back her dark hair, doffing her glasses to give the hero a knowing—if annoyed—look. There was a feeling of desire, but a spirit too weak.

Cut down like a ronin, Superman tumbled back down through the clouds.

The woman stared, demanding of him indignantly.

‘No!’ his mind’s voice thundered, ‘No!!’ Superman regained his composure and stopped his descent, just below the ceiling that those damned clouds had become. The clouds seemed to reach down toward him, turning and twisting like funnels to crash him back into the ocean. Lightning traveled down and spiraled around these pillar-esque clouds, threatening to burn through his very neural pathways.

The woman frowned. Tears escaped her eyes as she reached out for him. Darkness threatened to swallow her up. Darkness threatened to take away her chance.

“No!!!” His shout seemed to move the very heavens themselves, splitting open a path. A crazed look did not simply adorn The Man of Steel’s face, it defined it. His was an animal’s scowl, carved expertly by experience into his searing flesh. 

Clark Kent tore through the gap between the massive darkness that dared obstruct him. Light from a long forgotten sun bathed him, rejuvenating him bit-by-bit. Warmth at last, not from mutilated hands or a body drenched in sweat, but from a sun that welcomed him like a baby to its mother’s teat. Past the sky, through the unnoticed chill of space, Clark Kent reached out and—

***

They ran through veins, they swam through tunnels, never resting until they completed their trek as old as time. Five hundred million strong, they scrambled to the finish line—to the prize. The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer blazed through the first gate, leaving introductions to those left behind. The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer stole past the second gate, the doors furious to have been tricked even as they blocked those before and those after. When confronted with the challenge of the third gate The Two Hundred Fifty Millionth Racer did no more than embrace it, sweet-talking its way inside of the hen coop. Then, having reached its prize, The Remaining Racer bid farewell to its independence and gave every fiber of its being to the eggs within. 

A spark flickered. Four hundred ninety-nine million lights had died out. One had survived to take its prize. Two had become one. Now, there was but the spark. One day the spark became a light, flickering in the dark. A day some time after that, the light had grown strong and warm. Life was formed in the dark. Life survived in the dark. Life learned of the light beyond the dark. Life grew in the dark. Life waited for the light beyond the dark. Life lived in the dark. Life grew strong in the dark. Life escaped the dark. Life lived in the light. Life was embraced by The Mother and The Father. Life fed on the breast of its Mother. Life grew strong off her milk.

Finally, life left the light.

***

The stars all seemed so tangible to Clark Kent as he slowly birthed from the light of the sun. Thousands of blobs no bigger than a gnats danced, ran, and bounced off one another; it was as if the supermarket had had a fire sale on coffee. Every solar energy-storing cell within his body brimmed with energy. Not a crack remained in his bones, not a mark, scar, burn or stain marred his skin. The sudden rejuvenation of his person had kicked his hair follicles into overdrive, forcing the journalist-by-day to pluck from his armpits and crotch overgrown hair. A new beard and mane adorning his head drew attention to themselves quickly. Scowling at the sensation of a beard, Clark tore each hair from his face with immense speed. Emitting an aura that danced in arches like the fires atop the sun, Superman flew back to Planet Nele to face his foe revived…but not reborn.

The members of the Justice League watched on in stunned silence. Computer hums and raised heartbeats were the only sounds to fill the Watchtower. The distinct clinking-and-clanking of shackles tainted that. Kicking his feet lightly in place, a perched Vegeta smirked as he took in the horror before him.

“Aww, hell!” A strained shout escaped from Guy Gardner, making him the first to break the dreadful silence. “Big Blue’s still in it!” Guy had meant for the line to be a rallying cry, instead it sounded like surprise.

The Batman shifted his attention to Vegeta, still sitting atop the same control panel. The monitors clearly showed that Superman was increasing in power, yet the Saiyan showed no concern. Bearing eyes that spoke all, The Batman felt himself sucked deeper into a black hole. He was The Dark Knight: using fear to set his foes off-balance! Long ago he thought he had conquered the darkness, now he found himself once again being swallowed by it. ‘Those eyes…’ The Batman shifted his attention back to the monitors, then back to Vegeta. No change. 

In the back of his mind Ray Palmer wondered if he was in a sauna. Sweat had begun to merge his spine to his shirt and he wasn’t sure whether his hand was slipping off of the control panel due to the sweat or that his nerves were getting the best of him. Either way, his composure was about to snap. “Superman’s absorbed enough yellow solar energy to surpass that Saiyan’s readings!” All that liquid on his body, yet none to mend his dry throat “My God, this shouldn’t be possible!” Excitement transformed into a slowly realized horror, “…it’ll kill him.” 

The Batman shot a look back at Vegeta, still sitting, still grinning. Sweat built up beneath his mask, but he did his best to ignore it and the increasingly frequent flashes back to the worst night of his life.

***

Son Gokuu scratched the back of his head. The massive crater created by his Kamehame-Ha now had islands and oceans pouring into it. Perhaps his ki control had been a little…shoddy. “Well, damn, I guess I shouldn’t have shot him through the planet like that…” Fifteen minutes had passed by but Superman had yet to return from the planet-length crater. Son Gokuu was slowly beginning to fear he had killed his foe. The Saiyan’s voice was practically frantic “Aww, damn it! If I killed him that means I won’t be able to fight him again!” Yet there was no air of graveness to his demeanor. 

Stupendously, the heavens split. A chorus of warm voices preceded a brilliant shower of golden light. Son Gokuu and the crumbling world beneath him were bathed in sunlight. A golden figure descended from the now split heavens, slowly but assuredly making their way toward Son Gokuu.

A voice escaped the golden, fiery light. “I will win this fight,” the voice was familiar…but foreign.

With no ki to sense, Son Gokuu had only his instincts to guide him: “You’re alive, eh?”

“Yes,” the calm voice of the light betrayed a vicious wrath. “Perhaps I should say…I have been reborn; reborn to crush you.”

The one-liner was meant to intimidate him, instead it left the Saiyan only more excited. Grinning from ear-to-ear, Son Gokuu exploded in a fiery white aura. His ki was at its uppermost…in his normal form. His body ached from the injuries he had sustained so far but his ki, although depleted from injury and use both proper and poor, was as feral in texture and flavor as ever. The white embers of his fiery ki aura distorted the air around the Saiyan as his muscles seemed to bulge in a dance of anticipation. 

Finally, he struck. 

A shockwave here and a shockwave there, Planet Nele would remember its shudders that day for the rest of its life. The two combatants traded blows with such speed and vigor it was as if a thunderstorm echoed across the entire planet. Clouds dispersed, sliced in two by kicks or dusted off by colliding fists. Son Gokuu’s red dougi tore further from the strain of his increased body mass now furiously slugging it out with The Man of Steel. Finally, with a rhythm-breaking feint, Son Gokuu hammered his blue-clad foe into a mountain below them. Three hundred fifty-seven trillion pounds of stone now crushed the Kryptonian below. 

A bright green frog yawned lazily as her eyes adjusted to the sudden awakening. Normally not even the regular rainfall was enough to awaken her. Today the rainfall was accompanied by thunderous booms and earth-splitting quakes. Hopping from one lily pad to the next, the frog sought breakfast foods but naught were to be found. Drat! Rain pelted the frog.

The frog stood upon a lily pad, deep in meditation as it considered its options. With not a fly to be seen and a hunger that needed curing there was but one option remaining: venturing out of her treasured wetland. It had been a long time since the amphibian had strolled out of The Wetland but the only alternative was risking starvation. Rain pelted the frog, but it was heavier this time; dirtier. Looking above, the frog was greeted by the sight of a mountain falling from the sky above. 

“Oh, ribbit.”

Son Gokuu unleashed a Kamehame-Ha directly into the center of the still-collapsing mountain. The stream of towering white and blue ki quickly tore through the layers of mountain and snow, not simply like a hot knife through butter, but as if it was pure blunt force. 

A man-sized tornado of golden fire drilled up through both the ground and the towering stream, slamming into Son Gokuu and wildly pushing him throughout the airspace above the mountains. Around and around, like flies circling fecal matter, The Man of Tomorrow pushed deeper and deeper into the Saiyan’s torso. Finally, Superman slammed his foe into the ground below.

With astonishing recovery, Son Gokuu broke free of the gully his body had created and slammed an elbow in Superman’s face as he groggily tried to recover from his dizzying display of spinning.

Superman took the elbowing of his left eye when he probably should not have, not with his speed now increased so many fold. He didn’t care. Replying with a head-butt, The Man of Steel tore what remained of his royal red cape off and tossed it at his reeling foe’s face to hide a nasty punch wrapped in the golden fires emitting from his body straight to the Saiyan’s nose. 

Son Gokuu felt his nose cave into his face, despite the fabric softening the blow. Already heavily off-balance due to the head-butt, Gokuu slammed onto his back, the force creating a four thousand foot wide crater. It took all of the Saiyan’s will not to grab his nose but instead pick himself up and charge at his foe. Only a counter awaited him. Gokuu had not even realized he had been hit until he found himself buried seven miles into the next continent over, like a layer cake cut partway through. Ocean began to fill the new half-mile wide v-shaped gap. Clark was getting stronger by the second.

Superman picked Gokuu out of the ground. His foe was still slightly dazed but not a single bone in his body cared when he began jabbing the combatant in the face. The sweet release of unloading his pent-up desires and frustration onto the defenseless Saiyan’s face was something Clark very much relished. When he blinked he saw her, her disapproving pout. Fury and pain burned up like acid reflux through his throat as he struggled to bite through it. The pure, golden light seemed to solidify more as Clark gave into the horrible glut of pent-up misery in his heart. Soon, Superman was a pure, golden being in all respected. Arches of fires gold in color danced in-and-out of his body a dance of war and death; yes, causing suffering in others gave him a long forgotten sense of relief. After all, why accept Her when it was easier to do what hurt Him best? 

It took a moment, but Son Gokuu managed to slam a fist into what he hoped were The Man of Steel’s unguarded ribs. What could hardly be called a flinch came in reply. Gokuu continued these several dozen times, all the while sustaining ever increasingly mighty blows to his face. ‘Tch, the Taiyou-ken probably won’t work on this guy, but—!’ Breaking from his assault, Gokuu brought his hands up to his face and unleashed a burst of ki directing into his foes eyes. “Sorry for usin’ yer technique, Tenshinhan!” Normally the Taiyou-ken would temporarily blind a foe. Against Superman, with his powerful eye sight now multiplied a hundred fold, it had no effect. The tattered red dougi worn by the Saiyan martial artist found itself torn further as The Man of Tomorrow sent the forty-six year old flying into space with a nasty uppercut.

Remnants of the Saiyan’s red dougi remained in Clark’s clenched left fist. The battle was turning in his favor now. All he had to do was make his foe concede...but that smile—that smile would not fade. It remained unwavering, taunting The Man of Steel like the ending of a book he could not re-write. Superman clenched his fist and as if on signal the golden fires dancing on his immaculate form incinerated the remnants of Son Gokuu’s dougi. 

Son Gokuu floated in space, his body still reeling from the perfect hit to his chin. Every inch of his body was shaken to its core. “Damn, can’t even make a fist,” the Saiyan thought aloud in hushed tones. “All that power he’s got now is incredible…I can tell it is destroying his body.” Images of a dead Superman flashed through Son Gokuu’s mind. “What a waste…but he’s finally going all-out. I ought to, too!” The stars dazzled brilliantly in the unending expanse. The massive darkness of outer space was the perfect place for the now-battered Saiyan to refocus every cell within him. Son Gokuu gripped his fists.

Superman had spotted his prey, formlessly floating in space, before he had even moved a millimeter from his spot just above the Sinking Ocean. Before he could even touch his foe, however, his golden form was repelled by an aura of oozing, thick blue energy. The aura danced and crackled in space, turning and churning in a marvelous show of light as it wrapped itself around the visitor from another realm. Words almost escaped him as he struggled futilely to gather the courage to strike out. A hushed “No,” was all he could muster.

The aura took the form of a giant ape, roaring and swiping at The Man of Steel. Kent struggled to punch back but his fist was met only with stalemate. The black of space was replaced with flashing magenta and blue, alternating every other second. The nearby space debris cracked into smaller pieces. Pent-up force seemed to explode, sending Kent flying away from his prey. Finally, the roaring beast-esque aura shrunk down until it bathed Son Gokuu in a form-fitting, calm fire of blue. 

Son Gokuu opened his eyes to unveil the steeled resolve in his now cyan colored pupils. Adrenaline coursed through his person despite a calmer demeanor. The Saiyan’s typically wide, black hair now stood on end with bangs a clearly defined blue. Fires burned hottest when blue. “I didn’t think you would have a ‘transformation’,” Gokuu opened. “That’s okay; I can turn it up to another level, too. This form is called Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan.” 

Clark Kent, his body radiating pure energy from the yellow sun at the center of the solar system of Planet Nele, was incredulous. “You can transform to increase your power?” The more his anger grew the more he pushed his body to absorb more sunlight from the nearby sun. The wick of the cancel buckled under the strain of a fire growing heavier still. Nevertheless, the wick burned and burned. Should the candle be turned to puddle no longer mattered to the wick. 

Son Gokuu slowly moved closer to Clark. “You should stop relying on the sun’s power,” he advised, “It’s killing you.” The Saiyan re-tightened his belt, as if he already knew his words were futile.

‘So calm’, the Saiyan now was—utterly devoid of the laidback demeanor that had plagued Superman’s nerves up to this point. Behind his eyelids the woman placed a well-manicured, familiarly large hand on his shoulder. Her eyes sung a song of forgiveness: not for the Saiyan but for…

A sneer cursed Superman’s face “I can’t! This is the only way I can make things right!” His hand gestures were wild. They didn’t much impress the vexing visitor. 

Like a budding flower, an annoyance grew in Son Gokuu. “Fine, I’ll just end it.” The flashing of color, having lulled in the aftermath of Gokuu’s transformation, sped up, as if the universe itself was responding to the war raging within it. “Dah!” It was impossible, but somehow an echo accompanied the Saiyan competitor’s shout as he charged toward his foe.

The Man of Tomorrow met the forward charge with a blast of golden heat from his eyes. The blast seemed to cut straight through the Saiyan at first…until the image of the one named Son Gokuu faded entirely. “A mirage?!” before Superman could even finish turning to his rear he found his face met with a clean right straight. Recovering in a jiffy, Clark launched a series a jabs with both hands, always just a hair-of-a-second behind landing a clean blow. If his blows weren’t landing they were being swept aside or outright blocked. Frustration threatened to erupt, but a serene image of the dark-haired woman filled his mind. With calm returning to him, he finally began landing blows of his own. 

Quiet as his excitement had grown, Son Gokuu found its intensity growing nevertheless. Blocking or brushing aside the heavy fists of his foe had begun to make his own arms leaden. Counters and short-range, quickly summoned upon ki blasts were doing only so much damage, too. For the first time in the battle the Saiyan found himself battling his foe on an even-footing. Still, an annoyance filled him. Ignoring the niggling thought at the back of his mind, Gokuu planted his right fist cleanly in Superman’s gut, sending his foe into a nearby asteroid field. Stretching his long-since stiffened toes within their stuffy boot confines, Son Gokuu quickly made sure he was not far behind.

Try as he might, The Batman was unable to prevent himself from hunching forward. The anticipation was outweighed only by the unease he felt being within such close approximation of the League’s prisoner. “What about Son Gokuu? What do the scanners say about his output?” The Dark Knight feared he already knew the answer.

Palmer threw his hands up into the air as he turned to face his colleague “Damned if I know! Ever since he transformed we haven’t been able to decipher his readings!!” The inventor’s frantic shouts sent the hundreds of Watchtower personnel into an uproar.

“What does that mean?!”

“Superman’s stronger than ever, though!”

“It’s a computer error!”

Settling his heartbeat as best he could, The Batman turned to Vegeta. ‘Those eyes…so wild, so unrelenting…it’s like he enjoys the chaos…but he’s different from The Joker. The Joker seeks to create chaos; he sees the potential for destruction. Those eyes see only…’ A theory struck The Dark Knight, one he knew only the prisoner could confirm: “You’ve heard the reports; you’ve seen the monitors…why aren’t you afraid?”

The Prince of Planet Vegeta turned to his inquisitor. Without softening his eyes he replied “Don’t get me wrong, Kakarotto is not unbeatable. He simply can’t lose to your guy.”

The Saiyan was talking. This was his chance. With movements as desperate as his face, Palmer jumped at Vegeta and shook him by his shoulders. “What the hell is going on with the other Saiyan? Why can’t we get any readings off of his energy anymore?!”

The Batman tried to pull Palmer off of the Saiyan but Ray’s fingers only dug into the orange jump suit. “Calm down Ray, you’re making a scene” the hushed whisper of his friend’s voice steadily brought him down from his high. Letting go, he returned his gaze to the Saiyan prisoner’s eyes. They nearly devoured him, but he struggled through the pain in his abdomen—as if he were a gazelle being feasted on by a lion—to ask once more: “Why?”

Vegeta closed his eyes and let loose a small chuckle, “Our ki changes when we transform into Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan. Your old sample is useless now.”

“Super Saiya-whatchasay?” Gardner interjected. 

“Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan; call it ‘Super Saiyan Blue’, if it pleases you.”

“H-how much stronger is he?” Palmer whispered.  
Amused, Vegeta allowed his grin to widen, “If you’re wondering if this is why your ‘Superman’ cannot win, it’s not.”

The mood returned to silence. The pressure was torturous. “T-then why?”

The Saiyan prisoner’s reply was simple. No scientific explanation, no long-winded speech. Just a simple, terrifying fact that shook even the dreaded Batman of Gotham City to its core: “A man who fights for others first-and-foremost will always lose.”

It was as just as Bruce Wayne had feared. 

***

Hiding behind a sizable chunk of space rock, The Man of Steel waited with baited breath, his body hair on edge as goose bumps formed on his skin. With a thought, Clark incinerated his body hair making way for smooth skin marred only by the bumps born of his own mental weakness. The skin-tight costume he wore, normally protected by the bio-field tightly surrounding his body, was worse for wear and only served to irritate him more. Whether it was fraying, singeing, tears, cuts, or outright missing the tip of a boot, the suit of Superman was no doubt done for after this battle. The red ‘S’ laid atop a black background upon his chest, the House of El emblem, was but the only place the costume had remained unmarred. The irony of the symbol of Superman’s mourning remaining untouched had escaped the intrepid reporter. 

A cyan hue crept up on the surrounding debris. Superman’s foe had arrived. This was his chance. Channeling solar energy to his eyes, Superman prepared a surefire attack.

Space had so far proven itself to be very cold to Son Gokuu, but no colder than he could handle. The stars blazed brilliantly in the distance, yet their heat never reached him. ‘Damn, he ain’t got any ki for me to sense…’ Finally, warmth graced his skin. The tornado of golden fire returned, zooming through space, striking the Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan from every angle in hit-and-run attacks. Attuned as his eyes were, weariness was catching up with the Saiyan far quicker than he would like to admit. The hit-and-hide-behind-asteroids tactic began to tear down his defenses. ‘Shit…gotta blow all these rocks away!’ Son Gokuu prepared to unleash a kiai. Unfortunately for him, the asteroids were already flying…toward him.

If he could not strike down Son Gokuu himself he would have to use the asteroids. Expanding his tornado of golden fire, Superman caught up the asteroids one-by-one, super-heating each until they radiated like stones from a volcano. 

The shining cyan light took sight of the behemoth storm of volcanic asteroids before him. “Oh, shit!” The storm stormed down upon him. Their varying speed and size combined made them difficult to dodge. The giant golden fire seemed to have an infinite number of stones to toss at him. Dodge, punch, kick, ki blast, none of it mattered. In the end, the storm of makeshift volcanic space rock consumed Son Gokuu. Further and further back the storm of water-colored brush strokes pushed, lighting the skies above Planet Nele gold and red, until finally it collided with the moon. 

A pool of lava formed upon the surface of Nele’s moon. Vibrant reds, yellows and oranges danced flashily against the black backdrop of space. The pool of lava deepened and widened as it ate through the surface. Superman floated in the space above the moon. He wasn’t looking. He couldn’t look. His imagination was enough. The Saiyan, deep within the lake of lava, churning in pain as his body melted and his lungs filled with magma. “My God, what have I done?” Clark Kent looked as his palms, almost convinced he saw bloodied brandings of the omega upon them. Shaking his head, Superman’s vision cleared. The brandings were gone but not the pain upon his soul. “Is this the justice I sought?”

***

“Dear God, Superman just…” Guy Gardner could not even finish his sentence. The shock had evoked uproar amongst the Watchtower personnel and League members. 

“Just like Metropolis,” one technician whispered to another.

“I thought that was just because he was brainwashed,” the second replied.

The first brushed back her purple-dyed bangs, “Or something within him was awoken.”

The Dark Knight growled, raising his voice for the first time that day, “No! Superman’s no monster.” 

Vegeta laughed in response, clapping his hands jovially “So he does have some backbone!”

The Batman was unsure if the technicians recoiled in response to him or the prisoner and for that he sneered. “What did you mean earlier?”

“Ho?” the Saiyan stood for the first time since the battle had begun and walked towards his prosecutor. “Keep your eyes on the monitor, you’re about to see.” 

***

Air bubbles began to decorate the surface of the lake. The Man of Steel’s face was momentarily freed of its horror, now speaking only of his confoundedness. One bubble formed, then two, then a dozen little bubbles, until finally the entire lake burst into light, globs of red, yellow and orange taking wind like dandelion seeds before them. Shards of lava floated through space to form region no different than a very large lava lamp. Red, yellow and orange painted over the darkness of space. Finally, a cyan light cut through the red. Superman returned his gaze to the crater that once housed a lake of lava. Dead in the center stood not-so-dead Son Gokuu, now adoring a face more perplexing than any he had seen before. There was an unambiguous air of seriousness to him now, his clothing nearly melted away in their entirety and his face adorning not only a look of resolve but burns and blood. The Saiyan’s massive, bulging muscles seemed as all-consuming as those eyes he bore. Clark Kent has seen a lot of eyes in his time but never eyes like those, eyes devoid of murderous intent yet more fearsome. Finally, he asked: “W-why? Why do you keep doing this?”

Son Gokuu replied with a grin that did not betray his new air of seriousness. The glint in his eyes grew only stronger.

Frustration constricted on his soul, shattering it further and further and further. Superman’s lungs burned with vitriol as he screamed “Why?!” A stained-glass image of Christ looked down upon the Kryptonian woefully. 

Annoyance crept upon the face of Son Gokuu and he almost managed to not let it into his voice “I guess a guy like you wouldn’t understand. It pisses me off, really; all that power and you still don’t feel it.” Gokuu spat blood to the side. The blood hastily made its way to the surface of the moon before the lack of gravity finally stopped it just short. The student of the Muten Roushi gripped his fists tightly, his aura reflecting his erupting frustration. A scream broke past his lips, filling the grand void of outer space with a noise truly deafening: “All this power and you still ain’t havin’ fun!” The moon quaked under the pressure, whether the pressure from ki or the anger of Son Gokuu it knew not, until as a final point it burst into hundreds of shards, boulders and islands.

Superman was caught up in the storm of emotion, consumed by the spiraling cyan aura that threatened to drown him. His nerves threatened to explode as the blue aura pour into his nose and mouth, tearing him apart from inside out—or was he falling deeper and deeper, drowning in an inescapable ocean? Finally, he was awoken from his brief nightmare by a single, heavy hammering from behind. The force of the strike sent him crashing through the several chunks of the moon of Nele, further tearing them apart. Mister Kent took refuge within the remains to regain his composure. The force of the emotions that had penetrated his psyche left him fatigued. The experience was a mix of contrasting flavors, joy, anger, excitement, frustration, tranquility and restlessness. Their potency reminded Clark of the day he first tasted pizza: the spice of the pepperoni, the unforeseen sweetness of the red sauce, the tantalizing, pace-killing durability of the cheese. ‘Damn the Cheese!’ Suddenly he was four again, surrounded by Ma and Pa at the kitchen table; a simpler time, a happier time, devoid of the worries of being Superman, being a public figure, being responsible, being selfless, being a man, living a life he had been given no say in. 

The stars populating the cosmos before him seemed to almost spell the words out themselves. ‘Selfless’: “concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one’s own; unselfish.” The Man of Steel floated aimlessly in the dark expanse of space, lost deep in thought.

Episode #6: “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF”

‘‘Selfless’: “concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one’s own; unselfish.””.

Memories echoed against the noir landscape, bouncing between the debris once called a moon. Superman was a lone color in an unending sea of black.

“You have great power, son. Someday the world is going to look to you for answers, but it is going to fear you, too. It’s very important that you never misuse your gifts. Never use them for your own sake.” 

“That sounds stupid, boring and annoying! I want to see just how strong I really am.”

‘The old man’s lone reply was a stern expression’.

‘‘Selfless’: “concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one’s own; unselfish.”’. 

‘Pa told me to never be selfish, to always protect others. That’s what it meant to be a ‘man’. I don’t mind protecting the weak, but…when was it I stopped being that fiery little kid?’

First two, then three marks attempted to cover the young Clark. He could be neither tackled, nor touched. The football was firmly tucked under his armpit, impossible to dislodge even as he zoomed toward the end zone. He was the first ace running back that could double as a lineman in the history of the Kansas High School Football League. College scouts were incredulous; the Kansas City Chiefs were breaking the bank just to court him after graduation.

‘It was all for naught. I remember, now; that day.’

Coast City High and Smallville High were competing in the national championship. ‘Coast had the toughest line in the League, their defense was legendary. I was hungry, hungry to crush their line into the ground and shit on their legacy.’

The ace junior, Clark Kent, slammed into his opposing lineman. The struggle to hold his position without using too much of his strength was the real challenge. ‘You’re strong, but I’m stronger!’ Young Clark grinded his cleats into the turf deeper, pushing his opponent back. A devilish grin grew upon his face as he asserted his dominance. Suddenly, a strike to the chest and a quick spin sent Clark flying forward. For the first time in his life someone had sacked the quarterback on his watch, his dearly beloved boyfriend. The Smallville ace’s face contorted with rage. “Haha, wonder if I nailed your boyfriend before you did, faggot!” On the next play Clark Kent broke the lineman and opposing quarterback’s arms. 

“You have great power, son. Someday the world is going to look to you for answers, but it is going to fear you, too. It’s very important that you never misuse your gifts. Never use them for your own sake.”

‘Goddamn it, will you stop telling me who to be?’ Kent thought to himself, frustrated at the time but refusing to let that fire out.

‘Clark Kent never touched a football again,’ Kent thought of himself. “I abused my power. I disappointed everyone; first Pa and Ma, then the world.”

A voice dug up through the earth to reach his ears, “That wasn’t your fault, son. You learned your lesson.” Ma Kent stood before her adopted son, the unending sea of black holding two.

“I only fell under Darkseid’s control because I recklessly challenged him,” the graveness was deeply rooted. “He kept trying to tell me who I was. I learned nothing.”

“He’s right, Martha. He failed.”

Clark turned to his back, a judging Pa Kent boring through his soul; those condemning eyes placing their hands around his neck, choking him.

“No, Jonathan, he tried his best.”

“Trying doesn’t mean succeeding.”

Conflict brewed, The Man of Steel’s soul cracked like glass. Anxiety built; his parents’ arguing grew only louder, rougher. Pa resorted to violence, the brutal beating of his wife paralyzing their son. The brutality before him continued and bit-by-bit Clark felt filled with pleasure—relief. “God, yes. Thank you…” He was fourteen again, stroking himself as he bathed in the glow of having his self-disgust reassured. 

Content washed over Clark’s face as he watched Pa tear the intestines from his screaming wife. 

***

Clark returned to the battlefield, his anxiety subsided. His belief was substantiated. His guilt warranted. ‘Putting that Saiyan on trial is the right thing to do!’ Leaping out from his shelter, The Man of Steel sped towards the goal line.

Son Gokuu waited patiently, his sharpened cyan eyes carefully absorbing the speed and timing of his foe. Finally, with a side-step, the Saiyan grabbed the Kryptonian as he darted past and swung him back towards Planet Nele. Within seconds Superman crashed through the atmosphere of the planet and slammed into the ocean below. Escaping the torrential tides was of little difficulty, the first time. Son Gokuu made sure to deliver an unexpected right hook to send his bewildered foe right back down into the ocean below. Teeth clenched, The Man of Steel fired off a blast of heat vision, only for it to be dodged handedly. The might of the heat was so grand that a half dozen miles worth of ocean exploded into steam.

Calming his ki aura, Son Gokuu hid amongst the steam, appearing and disappearing from his foe’s grasp at the last second. The battle of hide-and-seek continued for what seemed like an eternity to The Man of Tomorrow. Finally, his crazed mind made sense of the situation. Superman’s eyes sharpened and he caught sight of his foe.

***

The halls of the Watchtower were as silent as they were empty. Few technicians and operators manned their workstations. Those that did divided their attention poorly between work and the battle unfolding on Planet Nele. Operator Leander dared to call for an assembly of a team to deal with an erupting volcano on some small island in the Pacific Ocean. The poor schmuck was unceremoniously bullied the next day for pulling the team of Justice League commandos away from their monitors. 

The Batman stood in shock. Son Gokuu had destroyed the moon surrounding Planet Nele with ease. Staring at earlier energy readings did little to help his mind understand the possibility of such a capricious being existing. His body felt light, yet like lead. Not only had the battle on the screen drained his psyche, it had poisoned his body. Accumulated sweat beneath his cowl birthed a growing physical agitation to further drive The Caped Crusader mad. Risking exposure to members of the League he had yet to reveal his identity to, The Batman doffed his mask. 

Eyes ever consuming, Vegeta let out a soft reaction, “Ho, so he’s an ‘ikeman’, too.”

Bruce pushed past the pull of his instincts and closed the distance between himself and the Saiyan prisoner. Scrubbing his newly un-gloved hand through his damp hair, Bruce scowled as the comment before asking “What next?”

Composure of utter relaxation, Vegeta grinned anew, “It’s more fun if you don’t know the ending the first time around.”

Hunger plaguing his stomach, Bruce Wayne wished he hadn’t felt so sure he already knew the ending. 

***

Clouds amassed across Planet Nele. Thickening like frozen whipped cream they stormed, suffocating the planet in lightning and thunder both purple and blue. Death was in the air. 

A hawk, wings spread wide, soared below the symphony of death above it. Sonata followed cantata, strengthening the hawk’s fear. A bolt of purple lightning threatened to fry the hawk but the bolt lived too short and died too soon to surpass the experience of the eons old heir to the Accipitridae. The chorus of thunder was too eager, pulsating too loudly and too quickly to be an effective enough prelude to terror. “No, today I will live.”

Swooping down, the hawk caught sight of a school of fish. Faster and faster they swam, knowing naught of what fate awaited them. “Providence smiles upon few in this world,” the hawk spoke in hushed tones. Prey was meant to give the predator continued breath.

No fish within the school had the capacity to understand the length of time it took for the hawk to consume it and its seven thousand five hundred eighteen fellows.

***

Despite using the Zanzou-ken to create afterimages the battle maniac found himself receiving more and more damage across his body. With the steam blinding his vision, Clark’s golden aura filling the entire cloud and various attempts at escaping the massive cloud stopped, the Saiyan was but able to rely only on immediate, close-range counterattacks to properly hit his foe. 

With his cannon blast straights being swept easily to the side with a flick of the wrist, the scowling superhero switched to hooks aimed straight at his foe’s wrists. 

It didn’t take long for the pain in his wrists to build. Grinning brilliantly, Son Gokuu caught Clark’s timing and broke his momentum with a nasty right upper to the jaw. Too his shock, The Man of Steel found himself break into a devilish grin when he realized the Saiyan’s wrists were now too pounded to deliver the same forceful blows they had before. Images of his guilt flickered in his mind, snapping him from his reprieve. 

Seeing his opponent disregard his brief escape, Gokuu broke off from his planned assault and hid amongst the steam once more. “Ain’t you wonderin’ why I haven’t blown this steam away yet?” the Saiyan called out.

It was as if his voice was bouncing off of the moisture in the air, making it impossible to pinpoint Son with but his hearing.

A smiling dark-haired woman leaned toward him. She popped brilliantly against the strong blue background in her cute red dress jacket. If he didn’t avert his gaze The Man of Steel found that…he felt strong. A pang of guilt blossomed but feeling adventurous Superman pushed it down.

Spitting blood to the side, Kent replied with a shout of his own: “You’re tired; you’re trying to conserve energy. Me, though? I can keep going all day!” The stained-glass specter of Pa flickered over Clark’s consciousness as he realized the arrogance behind his façade. Mister Kent’s face contorted as his strength shattered like a stained glass window caught in an earthquake. 

“Hah, maybe, but I ain’t ‘bout to let this fight end just yet! Why ain’t you using your vision to track me down?”

A dagger pierced The Man of Steel from the front. With a face contorting with the realization of his own hubris, Superman bore through the steam cloud with his stare.

Leaning forward, the dark-haired woman frowned.

Locking onto his target, Big Blue dashed through the air and slammed his strongest right fist into the torso of Son Gokuu. It took but half a second for him to realize a fist had planted itself into his snout, the fist of Son Gokuu, breaking it once again. Vision turning to red, Superman unleashed a furious storm of blows, crushing through the Saiyan’s hastily cobbled together defense and cracking bone after bone.

“That’s more like it!” Grabbing his foe’s left arm, the battle maniac Saiyan dislocated Clark’s left shoulder and used the ensuing break in his focus to slam two close-range ki blasts straight into what he hoped was his foe’s eyes, only for his follow-up to be met with two piercing heat blasts through the palms.

Both combatants withered in pain, neither willing to give. 

Clark instinctively transferred solar energy to his eyes, not simply repairing but rebuilding them. Taking advantage of his foe’s tortured palms, Superman popped his left shoulder back into place and swung with a right followed by a left, only for the blow to lack any real power. 

“It’s gonna take longer than that to recover from my attacks!” Kicking what remained of his boots off at the Kryptonian, Son Gokuu unleashed a Kamehame-Ha through his feet. The massive close-range blast swallowed the bewildered superhero whole. 

Moments passed before the blast explosion settled. The steam cloud Superman had created had been mostly blown away or settled at this point, finally giving both combatants clear sightings. Clark found himself short of breath as he lowered himself to a nearby beach. “When the hell was the last time I was short of breath?” he wondered aloud. 

The dark-haired woman placed her right upon his left shoulder and craned her body forward to his left. Her smile rejuvenated him. His fists tightened. The more he let himself think of Her, the more his desire to battle grew. She gently pushed him forward. Pa lying over the dead Ma flickered through his mind. Pain paved Kent’s face. The dark-haired woman ran around and blocked his vision of the scene of domestic abuse, leaned toward him and pressed her face close to his. She wore a scolding scowl, accompanied by a naked apron play. Before he knew it the kitchen of the old Kent house was replaced with another. Before he knew it he could not see his guilt. Before he knew it he knew what he wanted. Before he knew it he swore to never forsake it again. Before he knew it, he was Her.

***

Lois Lane, sporting her side-shave, leapt on her taller girlfriend’s back and covered her eyes with her palms, “Guess who?” she giggled, not making it very difficult to guess. Biting her lip with a carefree smile, Lois’ taller girlfriend—whose countered her girlfriend’s side-shaven cut with a more basic mane of jet black hair—used her super strength to twirl her girlfriend in front of her and against the counter. As the aromatic dinner currently simmering on the stove sauntered up their noses, Clare nuzzled her newly reconstructed nose against her girlfriends. “Missed ya,” the tall, slender woman whispered in her familiar husk, “Hope everything went well at work.”

Stealing a kiss from her girlfriend’s lips, Lois pushed free of her girlfriend’s grasp to rest her bottom on the kitchen counter, “Oh yeah, usual shit. Those fuckers at the Pentagon keep dodging my calls about that missing twenty-one trillion!”

Leaning over to test the heat of the sauce, Clare plucked a finger into the pot and gave it a taste. The tangy taste tactfully turned her smile wider.

“Wow girl, ever hear of COOTIES?! Girl’s got them, y’know! GOSH!”

Lois’ exaggerated joke elicited a soft laugh from Clare. Dipping her finger back in, Clare stroke her now sauce-covered finger down her girlfriend’s nose and stifled her giggle by inserting it into her mouth. “What, afraid of catching cooties, Miss Lane?”

Nearly gagging on her girlfriend’s gag, Lois pulled the model-esque woman’s digit from her mouth, “Duh, Miss Kent! Everyone. Knows. Girls. Are. Icky!” Each sentence, a kiss.

A devilish grin adorning her face the Kryptonian woman lifted her lesbian lover into a princess-carry and marched off to the couch, “I was going to ask if you wanted dinner, a bath or me first but I guess it’s me! Don’t worry; I’ve got a sweat kink too, Miss Lane!”

The lilt of Clare’s voice sent shivers up Lois’ body as she pulled her girlfriend’s face down for a kiss as she was laid on the couch, “Dirty dyke!”

Getting atop her moistening girlfriend, Clare doffed her apron and finally set free “…those glorious titties all day!” Copping a feel, Lois bit her red-stained lips, “Come to Mama, Milkies!”

Heat swarmed and gestated in Clare’s penis, the touch of her lover’s warm, soft palm driving her cock to stiffness. Doing in for another kiss an explosion in the distance caught Clare’s attention and she pulled back.

“Babe, what is it?”

“Shit, fuck!” there goes a perfectly good boner, “Gas line explosion at the elementary school. Sorry sweetie, I gotta—”

Pulling herself up on her elbows Lois had only a smile and a quip, eyes soft and more than forgiving, “Sounds like a job for Superwoman. Just don’t get your cooties on anyone else, Missy!”

Shaking her head, fighting back a grin, Clare held up both middle fingers before touching them to her lips and blowing a kiss, “Be back soon!” And, with a swift grab and slap of a belt buckle from the kitchen serving hatch onto her waist Clare was enraptured in the costume of Superwoman.

Lois wrapped herself in the couch blanket and watched her girlfriend fly off from the apartment balcony toward adventure once again.

***

Clark Kent kicked off the beach and tackled Son Gokuu, mid-air. The speeding bullet of varied colors slammed into the continent across the ocean and tore through it until finally reaching a mountain. Kent cursed as his foe broke his hold but would not give. Seeking to slam his foe back into the ground, Superman lunged forward, only to be sent flying back by an uppercut kick. 

A beaming Son Gokuu dashed forward and unleashed a nasty combination of blows on the still-reeling Superman. Aiming for vitals, Son Gokuu slammed elbows, knees and feet into the most critical areas of his foe’s torso. “I already broke your nose, let’s see if I can stop your breathing anyway else!” 

‘If he stops me from breathing I’ll have to use more solar energy to function!’ thoughts raced through The Man of Steel’s mind as he tried to spring back into action; thoughts of injury, thoughts of pain and thoughts of defeat. ‘Then why am I smiling?’ Clark turned to see beside him. Her smile reassured him of a very possible, different life. ‘No, your smile is my smile!’ Firmly planting his feet on the mountainous region’s ground, Clark Kent slugged Son Gokuu straight off of a mountain cliff. Making sure to not be too far behind, Superman’s pursuit was cut short when the falling Saiyan spat his newly knocked-out tooth into his sunny foe’s right eye. “Shit!”

With his foe distracted, Gokuu stopped his descent and quickly repositioned himself behind him. Locking his fingers and palms together, the Saiyan sledge hammered his foe downward. A volley of ki blasts were not far behind, further propelling the Kryptonian into the base of the mountain below. Thus was born a vast crater, eating into the base of the behemoth. 

Clark struggled to pick himself back up. Pain surged through his person. Somehow, through his own heightened senses, he could hear, feel, see and even taste the destruction of his own cells. The cells that absorbed solar energy and gave him his great power were, like him, dying. “Anymore…and I’m dead…well, not like I ever liked my body anyway,” he groaned. Sudden exhaustion caught up with him and he stumbled back to his knees. “Damn, even admitting that to myself is keeping me down…” Superman’s voice trailed off as his foe calmly landed just feet away. Forced to look up to the man that had tantalized him for so long, Clark Kent wanted to swear.

The Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan was surprisingly calm, despite the cauterized wounds on his palms. The Man of Steel could still hear the flesh sizzling, even as his vision blurred and the world around him became frighteningly silent. 

“Y’look real beat up, Superman; you should quit using that form.”

‘I don’t want to admit it.’

“Here, I’ll stop using Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan, too.”

‘The sternness faded from the Saiyan’s face. ‘

“Phew, that form sure takes a lot outta me!”

‘I’ve hated this guy so much—hated him for treating this fight as if it was a game—but here he is, showing some kind of sportsmanship.’

“Come on, drop that form so we can keep goin’ at it!” 

‘He’s so excited. So alive.’

“I wanna see how much further you can go!”

‘I…I want…’

“It’s been a while since I had to fight without my hands! This has been tons o’ fun!!”

‘I want to—‘

A bright red ribbon stretched a centimeter too far snapped against a black backdrop.

***

Superwoman arrived at the location of the explosion; teachers still finishing up lesson plans fled the school. Fire engines were still blocks away. Rushing through the flames, Superwoman saved the lives of several teachers pinned beneath debris. Spotting the flames threatening to leap to surrounding buildings, Superwoman immediately drew in oxygen, her body’s stored yellow solar energy converting it into ice breath, and unleashed a wicked blizzard to smother the flames. Frozen arches of fire remained only inches from escaping the property lines.

The people cheered for Superwoman. Crowds gathered to thank her for her heroism. Somehow, it still all felt hollow. The life she had with Lois was perfect but still, there was a piece of her heart left unfulfilled. As she stared back into that unending abyss, Clare wondered…would her fist ever feel the satisfaction of a hard-fought battle? To truly know the limit of her powers? It had been so long since that time with—a shriek snapped Superwoman from her reprieve.

“T-that man!” a soot-sullied woman, perhaps a school secretary, stammered, “T-that man that did this…h-he’s…”

Clare snapped her head back to spot the wicked school destroyer rising from wreckage. Covered in a green, full-bodied suit of some kind, the man had only heavy, low breathing to speak with.

“Who the hell are you?” Superwoman asked, raising a particularly plucked eyebrow. 

The green suited man some fifteen feet tall had but one response: a blindingly fast fist to the face. Superwoman quickly found herself implanted in a building some difficult to count number of blocks around, “T-this is…”

The man was soon on Clare again, hands wrapped around her throat, choking her, driving her slender body to increasing limpness… 

‘I…I want…’

The man roared as his prey’s doom approached.

‘I want to—‘

A bright red ribbon stretched a centimeter too far snapped against a black backdrop.

*** 

“—I want to fight!!” Restraining chains snapped. Broken, falling links bounced against the black backdrop of the soul of the beloved superhero. One bounce, two bounces, three bounces. Blue and red sprang to life in the darkness, consuming it until none was left. The golden aura of resentment burst into red and blue. Superman’s face burst to life, the adrenaline of freedom coursing through his veins. His skin, reddened by the excess solar energy, returned to its natural hue. With a ferocious roar The Man of Tomorrow lunged as his foe, reaching for Her tomorrow. 

“His smile has yet to fade, son. Take it from him!” the specter of Pa Kent whispered into Clark Kent’s ear. 

“Go away, you!” turning, Clare furiously swung at the specter of Pa Kent amidst the dark. Punch after punch dealt no damage. The journalist’s soul was unbalanced yet again, “I-I can’t beat him for you!” the desperation broke her voice, “I can’t keep fighting for you!! It’s killing me!!!” Finally, the Kent girl hit her adoptive father’s face, eliciting blood from his nose. “I g-gotta,” another blow to the face, “I gotta fight for me!!!” A dirty uppercut knocked Pa off balance, leaving him open for the finishing left straight. Pa’s body bounced after the initial impact.

Turning her upper body with a snappy motion and returning her attention to the Saiyan before him, Clare unleashed a barrage a heat vision blasts, each dodged with less and less grace. “You’re getting’ sloppy!!”

The racing heat nearly caught him. Droplets of sweat evaporated on his skin the closer he came to the blasts. Son Gokuu took notice of his foe’s wobbly legs and knew exactly what to do. It was difficult channeling ki while dodging in his condition, but the pain seemed to quiet as he thought more and more of his goal. Finally, Gokuu pretended to slip, shocking his blue-draped foe just long enough for her to not notice that the Saiyan had not slipped, but rather sled. Using his left arm for a pivoting axis, Son Gokuu slammed his right kick into Clare’s left Popliteal Fossa. 

The agony was unreal. The surprise attack had penetrated her wildly divided attention and struck an all-too unforgettable blow to The Woman of Steel. Stumbling, Clare struggled to maintain her footing. The nerves in her leg popped, like balloons filled too much. Before she knew it she had lost sight of her foe, inspiring her expression to quickly change from one of pain to one of panic. Suddenly, a voice broke over the thunderstorm above:

“Kame—”

Miss Kent’s facial expression spoke a nigh audible “Oh, shit!” The blue light above her highlighted her face and threatened to consume her entire body. 

“—Hame—”

‘Move!!’ Clare screamed at every cell within her body, ordering whatever strength she had left to rush into her eyes. Her large, cumbersome body of pure muscle and mass plagued her once again; the sensation of her form boring through her mind, maddening her as she finally accepted the truth of her heart. A brilliant blast of royal red burst forth, erupting first in the shape of a star, before chasing straight into the sky.

“—Ha!!!”

The stream of blue rushed diagonally downward, running with grace and tranquility a river would envy. The wave made an audible roar as it seared through the sky, burning with a fire no less hot than a night of passion.

The two colors clashed. Blue pushed down on red as red lifted up blue. The planet seemed to crumble even faster under the weight of the struggling lights. The flashing violets adoring the sky were soon joined by reds and blues. The violet clouds seemed to thicken in reaction, their tangibility ever more disquieting.

Clare’s knees grew closer and closer to the crushing ground beneath her. It was a struggle just to keep her neck in place, her vision locked into its current clash. As she gritted her teeth she could feel them grind into dust. The bones in her jaw cracked, sending reverberations throughout her entire body. Snaps. Cracks. Full on shatters. Her eyes cried in pain as each solar energy-storing cell within them shuddered violently, stretched a thousand leagues beyond comprehension. Her entire body was crumbling to dust. Soon, Clare would be little more than powder in a sack of meat. ‘Damn it, there’s only so much power I can release with just my eyes…’ Instinct took over, as if a thousand years of torment has been washed away. Clare pushed the Kamehame-Ha back further with her palms. The Woman of Steel’s arms quaked under the pressure of holding back the immense beam. ‘I…I need to…!’ A pure red fire danced against a black backdrop. Wildly, it kicked, it twirled and it squirmed. Finally, the fire spread before reshaping itself in the form of a hand reaching out.

Son Gokuu screamed with glee as he poured more and more of his ki into the rushing stream of blue energy. He could feel his opponent buckling, his victory approaching. “It’s a shame it’s gotta end, but it’s gotta end!” Another burst dashed out from his connected palms, gliding down the towering light and slamming into its target. 

A red needle the length of a No. 2 pencil streaked across a black backdrop. When the needle passed the center of this backdrop, it opened a sliver-sized wound and blood—most suddenly—began to flee. The black backdrop faded, revealing a surprised Son Gokuu.

The Saiyan struggled to see out of the corner of his eye. Somehow, his cheek had been cut. Gokuu returned his attention to his foe below just in time to catch sight of a beam of red hot energy slicing through his Kamehame-Ha. To meet the beam, Gokuu dug up more of his ki and poured it into his attack.

Two lights: one red, one blue, struggled in the darkness. The more one pushed back the more the other rose to the challenge. Which would consume the other first? 

***

The clash of lights and colors enraptured hundreds of billions across the universe. For one brief moment in time the universe was in harmony. Friend shared with foe a moment of unity, whether in the heat of battle or the comfort of abode. 

The Watchtower seethed with heat as it struggled to display the visual information being conveyed to them by the Lex Corp. satellites. The brilliant clash of energies and lights, ever shifting in intensity and frequency, had become nearly impossible to record. Even at a distance the cameras were becoming embroiled in the two-man war, exploding from residual energy or falling prey to the worsening weather conditions. Waves of color poured out from the monitors and washed over the cramped viewers, bathing them in more unpleasant heat. One might think that they, too, were in the thick of the battle. The gradient texture of water color paint drenched the viewers as sweat slipped off of their bodies. Perhaps larger puddles of sweat would soon grace the floors of the Watchtower?

Vegeta, the prisoner prince, would not remove his all-seeing, all-consuming stare from the main monitor. Those that shot him looks could swear that they’d seen a predator eating its prey. Some would later recall the scent of fresh split blood dancing amid the room. 

Bruce Wayne clenched the mask of The Batman in his hand. Sweat marred the cowl beyond what a few minutes of air drying could afford. Using the Watchtower’s laundry room was off the table, it was impossible for Bruce to leave the room while the battle still raged. ‘Besides, I need to see this guy’s face when it’s all over.’ Master Wayne stole a glance at his Saiyan prisoner; his expression remained ever frighteningly thrilled. 

Finally, he said something, a hushed whisper blurted out, “This is it!” 

Bruce swung his head back to the main monitor. The room filled with a violent purple light emitting from all the monitors. Everyone but Vegeta shielded their eyes on instinct. Shouts of astonishment and anger ricocheted off the walls of the main control room. 

With howling laughter Vegeta broke free of his shackles. The Batman twisted in surprise, although in the back of his mind he realized he knew this had been possible all along. As the chain links soared through the sky Bruce caught through them sight of the main monitor. He was the first in the room to ‘see’ the outcome of the battle—the prisoner had no use for sight. He had already sensed it. 

***

The sky was violent in its churning. Clouds with thick black outlines huddled together, twisting and entwining, but never quite losing their independence. At the same time, it was as if all of the clouds had become one massive mass. It unsettled Clare Kent. The journalist by day watched the clouds for a time she knew not how long. Finally, she was snapped back to reality. The Saiyan was picking her up off of the ground. 

“That was a hell of a fight!” the martial artist giggled, slinging his foe over his shoulder.

“So, I guess I lost.” she didn’t particularly like it, but the superhero was in no condition to argue. Her mouth and eyes were the only parts of her body she could use, let alone register as still being there. 

“Yeah, but it was real close!”

Clare Kent made a mental note that day: ‘I don’t like being lied to.’

The duo wearily walked—perhaps better described as ‘stumbled’—back to the Justice League Javelin-class spaceship that had been their transportation. The Kryptonian wondered just when their battle had taken them back to the desert their battle had first begun in. Sand took refuge in-between her toes.

Painful as it was to speak, Miss Kent had something to say, “…I’m sorry.”

Son Gokuu wore a face of confusion.

“…for being such a jerk.”

Confusion. 

‘Well, I guess it’s to be expected.’ “Forget it.”

The Saiyan returned his sight forward, smiling idly. 

‘The planet sure has been beat up by our fight. It’s dying, soon. Still…what’s next? After all this I just hope…hope that after finally facing such a foe…finally reaching this point where I can admit to myself that I…’ Clare’s attention was stolen by a peculiar sight as she and Gokuu entered the Javelin. A saber tooth tiger, a frog and a hawk, all of suspiciously grand size took refuge within the spaceship.

“Hurry up, you damn brats, the planet’s goin’ t’blow!”

Comically, Son Gokuu picked up his step and dragged his defeated foe into the Javelin. Buckling the hero into a seat, a curious expression soon took form on his face, “Say…have you always been this small…and soft?”

Clare raised an eyebrow, “H-huh?”

Curious, Son Gokuu performed a puff-puff, “Wow, they’re bigger than Chi-Chi’s!”

Like the rising of a new sun, realization soon dawned upon Clare as she looked down at her now scantily covered chest. A rosey-red color bleached her cheeks as a terribly intoxicating thought threatened to bloom in her mind. With renewed strength, Clare thrust herself up onto her wobbly feet and stumbled to the small bathroom unit to look at her reflection in the mirror. Clare Kent laughed, a genuine smile gracing her newly reconstructed face for the first time in her adult life.

“Ah shucks, I thought you was a guy since yer name is ‘Cla—’”

“Clare!” the woman cut the Saiyan off, notably lifting her voice an octave or two, “You probably just misheard.”

“Ah, shoot, sorry!” the Saiyan nervously laughed.

Turning back to look into the mirror some more Clare replied with an unusual jovialness, “No problem, dude!”

THE END


End file.
